Disclaimer: AU Story. The fourth large LOTR fic! My word, not another,
surely? The characters are not mine. The settings are not mine. The plot
is, however, my creation. I hope you find this an enjoyable read.
Hmsgirl: Yuck? Why yuck? I always wondered that too- I thought Gollum might be just a little loyal. But then again, if he hadn't been...well, it doesn't bear thinking about
CStini: Teehee. N'ah, I don't want to torture you- only Frodo. Sorry it took a while to update but revision is high on the agenda. Did you know John Gutenburg invented the printing press in 1450 and that Wie spat ist es? is German for What time is it? No? Good.
MagicalRachel: Mwahaha! Das ist meine evility. Well, you are kinda mean. But wait till you read this- it's one of Skye's stories, just under Imprisoned and...it was terrifying. Go there for Frodo angst! Yep- t'was Fazzimiz at the end there. And don't worry about your reviews- I think you're wonderful just for reading the thing!
QTPie-2488: Action. Angst. Gollum. Orcs. What a book that would be! Glad you're enjoying...
Holly Wood: Yay! You're the only person ever to have liked my cliffies!
Bookworm2000: Yep. I only have a vague idea for the next chapter, but it should be, er, interesting. Heh! Go Bookworm Eerie 2000!
Elbereth: Go Gollum! Go evil! Go darkness! Get out of here! Yes. I guess if they lost the Ring, it would kind of defeat the object. Oh, I don't know, though. Two people bought me the One Ring from Argos for Christmas, which was...extremely weird. I think in Argos, it's more like the Twelve Billion Rings of Power(TM) :-)
ViNGuyen: *puts up thumb and discovers she is wearing One Ring* AAAAAH!
If you want angst-y stories- look up the author Skye or the story Yet to Despair. Serious Frodo torture, I'm sure you'll appreciate. :-)
~ Chapter Six ~
Sam woke groggily and for a while only felt cold. There was a faint breeze and the air was damp. He listened carefully for any sounds. But for the faint rushing of water, there was silence. There should not be silence, it occurred to him. Mister Frodo should be lying right beside him. Sam opened his eyes to a half-light and tried to sit up, only to find that his hands were bound. He was completely alone. It was a cave filled with barrels and boxes and there was a strange musty smell in the air. Sam looked desperately around. There was nothing. Nothing else!
"Mister Frodo?" he called tentatively. Then louder. "Mister Frodo?"
He waited, holding his breath. There was no reply. The hobbit could not for the life of him remember how he came to be here. Who had tied his hands? Who put him in this cave? And where on earth was his master? He bit on his lip.
"Frodo? Master, are you there? Gollum, you little footpad, where are you hidin' yourself?"
Still, there was nothing. Suddenly, there was a creak that echoed around the whole chamber and made Sam cried out.
"Sir!" he heard someone call. Not an orc, he thought blearily, then where am I? Where is anybody, come to that?
"Sir! It's awake!"
"It?" he said indignantly.
"Thank you," someone said, "I'll go and talk to it. Ibril, you come with me. Guard the door if it tries to escape."
A tall, finely robed man came through a small door from behind the barrels. He peered down with undisguised disdain at the creature on the floor. Sam was positively fuming.
"Now look here," he protested, "I'm not an 'it', I'm a Sam. Or a Samwise Gamgee to you. Why have you trussed me up? I'm not going to hurt you, am I now? What do you think I am?"
"A spy," the man said bluntly, walking round to stand opposite the prisoner, "My men said they found you at an orc camp. Is this true?"
"It's true. We'd just gotten caught by them orcs and all. I'm sick and tired of being tied up. But at least they didn't accuse us of being spies. Spies! I like that."
"We?"
"...I mean me. I mean I. I'm not a spy!"
"Alright then, what are you? A scout? A guard? You seem a little small to be out here at all."
"I'm a gardener," Sam said in a tone of complete exasperation.
"A gardening orc. Now there's a find, Ibril!" the captor laughed to the guard. Sam groaned.
"An orc! You think I'm an orc? Now I may not be pretty, but I don't know how you came to think me of that. Hobbits never looked nothing like no orc. And I wouldn't mind knowin' what you are, neither."
"A...what? Hobbit? I've heard tell of them in legends. Why should I believe anything a fictional character has to say?"
"You're hopeless!" Sam cried, "Hobbits have never been legendal or fictionary in all their lives."
"Alright, alright," said the man, with a hint of amusement, "I give in. Let's get ourselves properly introduced. I am Captain Faramir, commander at Ithilien."
"And I'm Samwise Gamgee, gardener at Bag End and _hobbit_ of the Shire," the hobbit replied, letting a sigh. This was all becoming a bit much for him to handle. He needed to get back to Mister Frodo. He could not remember what had happened exactly, but he recalled Gollum...Gollum...now what had he gone and done...?
"Now, Samwise, if you're not an orc spy, would you like to explain what you are doing in Ithilien when you are of the Shire, which, if I am accurate, is in the far north?"
Sam hesitated. He had been given strict instructions never to tell any stranger about this quest. Frodo had given too much away at Bree. That had been close enough. This Captain Faramir, if he could not tell an orc from a hobbit, was probably hardly trustworthy with such a matter.
"We were travelling," he said falteringly, "With some other folk. From Rivendell."
"You keep saying 'we'. You had a companion, yes? Where is he now?"
The hobbit's brow creased as he looked desperately from left to right. But he was so terribly worried and very lost. Goodness knows what had happened to the Fellowship and his master. Sam felt as if he was totally alone.
Faramir's heart tugged at the look of despair on Samwise's face. This was certainly no orc. But it escaped him why someone like this would be so far from home. It did not seem right in any respect. But Rivendell. Why did that bring back memories? Of course!
"Samwise," he said, "This is of grave importance. These others...can you name them for me?"
The hobbit shook his head stubbornly.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'd be breakin' my word. I made an oath. We all did. Though..." here, he let out a defeated sigh, "I doubt there's much of the company left. I mean, first Gandalf fell and then I didn't see Legolas or Gimli when I went up that hill. And Aragorn went straight into a pack of orcs. I don't know about Merry or Pippin but...oh, poor Boromir."
"Boromir! You were with Boromir?" Faramir cried. This dozy creature had been part of this fabled Fellowship? One of the protectors of the Ring of Power? How came such foolishness! "When? What happened to him? Do you know who bore It?"
"Bore what?"
"The Ring, you fool! The Ring! What of Boromir? Did he carry the Ring of Power?"
Sam's eyes went wide and he shook his head. He refused to speak. Faramir took him by the shoulders, shaking him as if to tip the words from his mouth.
"Tell me! What of my brother?" he roared.
Even though a faint light of confusion came to Sam's eyes, he would only say,
"I made an oath, Mr Faramir. I'm not breakin' it any more."
At last, the man dropped back onto his heels and put a hand to his brow.
"Fine," he spat, "You can just tell me where this all happened. Where are they now?"
"It was by the waterfalls," said Sam, seemingly unmoved by the change in Faramir's tone, "We got attacked by orcs and split up. Me and...me and my master came here because...we wanted to catch this little crawling sneak called Gollum. That's why me and my master came. Have you seen them?"
The man frowned, noting the sudden pleading in his prisoner's voice. He shook his head and saw Samwise's face crease into a thousand lines of concern.
"I'll send out a search party for them," Faramir complied, "Only if you promise me that you will tell me everything of Boromir. I will do nothing if you deny me knowledge of my brother."
Sam did not pause, but nodded eagerly, his hope rekindled.
"Thank you, Mr Faramir," he said breathlessly, "My master'll know. He knows everything."
Hmsgirl: Yuck? Why yuck? I always wondered that too- I thought Gollum might be just a little loyal. But then again, if he hadn't been...well, it doesn't bear thinking about
CStini: Teehee. N'ah, I don't want to torture you- only Frodo. Sorry it took a while to update but revision is high on the agenda. Did you know John Gutenburg invented the printing press in 1450 and that Wie spat ist es? is German for What time is it? No? Good.
MagicalRachel: Mwahaha! Das ist meine evility. Well, you are kinda mean. But wait till you read this- it's one of Skye's stories, just under Imprisoned and...it was terrifying. Go there for Frodo angst! Yep- t'was Fazzimiz at the end there. And don't worry about your reviews- I think you're wonderful just for reading the thing!
QTPie-2488: Action. Angst. Gollum. Orcs. What a book that would be! Glad you're enjoying...
Holly Wood: Yay! You're the only person ever to have liked my cliffies!
Bookworm2000: Yep. I only have a vague idea for the next chapter, but it should be, er, interesting. Heh! Go Bookworm Eerie 2000!
Elbereth: Go Gollum! Go evil! Go darkness! Get out of here! Yes. I guess if they lost the Ring, it would kind of defeat the object. Oh, I don't know, though. Two people bought me the One Ring from Argos for Christmas, which was...extremely weird. I think in Argos, it's more like the Twelve Billion Rings of Power(TM) :-)
ViNGuyen: *puts up thumb and discovers she is wearing One Ring* AAAAAH!
If you want angst-y stories- look up the author Skye or the story Yet to Despair. Serious Frodo torture, I'm sure you'll appreciate. :-)
~ Chapter Six ~
Sam woke groggily and for a while only felt cold. There was a faint breeze and the air was damp. He listened carefully for any sounds. But for the faint rushing of water, there was silence. There should not be silence, it occurred to him. Mister Frodo should be lying right beside him. Sam opened his eyes to a half-light and tried to sit up, only to find that his hands were bound. He was completely alone. It was a cave filled with barrels and boxes and there was a strange musty smell in the air. Sam looked desperately around. There was nothing. Nothing else!
"Mister Frodo?" he called tentatively. Then louder. "Mister Frodo?"
He waited, holding his breath. There was no reply. The hobbit could not for the life of him remember how he came to be here. Who had tied his hands? Who put him in this cave? And where on earth was his master? He bit on his lip.
"Frodo? Master, are you there? Gollum, you little footpad, where are you hidin' yourself?"
Still, there was nothing. Suddenly, there was a creak that echoed around the whole chamber and made Sam cried out.
"Sir!" he heard someone call. Not an orc, he thought blearily, then where am I? Where is anybody, come to that?
"Sir! It's awake!"
"It?" he said indignantly.
"Thank you," someone said, "I'll go and talk to it. Ibril, you come with me. Guard the door if it tries to escape."
A tall, finely robed man came through a small door from behind the barrels. He peered down with undisguised disdain at the creature on the floor. Sam was positively fuming.
"Now look here," he protested, "I'm not an 'it', I'm a Sam. Or a Samwise Gamgee to you. Why have you trussed me up? I'm not going to hurt you, am I now? What do you think I am?"
"A spy," the man said bluntly, walking round to stand opposite the prisoner, "My men said they found you at an orc camp. Is this true?"
"It's true. We'd just gotten caught by them orcs and all. I'm sick and tired of being tied up. But at least they didn't accuse us of being spies. Spies! I like that."
"We?"
"...I mean me. I mean I. I'm not a spy!"
"Alright then, what are you? A scout? A guard? You seem a little small to be out here at all."
"I'm a gardener," Sam said in a tone of complete exasperation.
"A gardening orc. Now there's a find, Ibril!" the captor laughed to the guard. Sam groaned.
"An orc! You think I'm an orc? Now I may not be pretty, but I don't know how you came to think me of that. Hobbits never looked nothing like no orc. And I wouldn't mind knowin' what you are, neither."
"A...what? Hobbit? I've heard tell of them in legends. Why should I believe anything a fictional character has to say?"
"You're hopeless!" Sam cried, "Hobbits have never been legendal or fictionary in all their lives."
"Alright, alright," said the man, with a hint of amusement, "I give in. Let's get ourselves properly introduced. I am Captain Faramir, commander at Ithilien."
"And I'm Samwise Gamgee, gardener at Bag End and _hobbit_ of the Shire," the hobbit replied, letting a sigh. This was all becoming a bit much for him to handle. He needed to get back to Mister Frodo. He could not remember what had happened exactly, but he recalled Gollum...Gollum...now what had he gone and done...?
"Now, Samwise, if you're not an orc spy, would you like to explain what you are doing in Ithilien when you are of the Shire, which, if I am accurate, is in the far north?"
Sam hesitated. He had been given strict instructions never to tell any stranger about this quest. Frodo had given too much away at Bree. That had been close enough. This Captain Faramir, if he could not tell an orc from a hobbit, was probably hardly trustworthy with such a matter.
"We were travelling," he said falteringly, "With some other folk. From Rivendell."
"You keep saying 'we'. You had a companion, yes? Where is he now?"
The hobbit's brow creased as he looked desperately from left to right. But he was so terribly worried and very lost. Goodness knows what had happened to the Fellowship and his master. Sam felt as if he was totally alone.
Faramir's heart tugged at the look of despair on Samwise's face. This was certainly no orc. But it escaped him why someone like this would be so far from home. It did not seem right in any respect. But Rivendell. Why did that bring back memories? Of course!
"Samwise," he said, "This is of grave importance. These others...can you name them for me?"
The hobbit shook his head stubbornly.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'd be breakin' my word. I made an oath. We all did. Though..." here, he let out a defeated sigh, "I doubt there's much of the company left. I mean, first Gandalf fell and then I didn't see Legolas or Gimli when I went up that hill. And Aragorn went straight into a pack of orcs. I don't know about Merry or Pippin but...oh, poor Boromir."
"Boromir! You were with Boromir?" Faramir cried. This dozy creature had been part of this fabled Fellowship? One of the protectors of the Ring of Power? How came such foolishness! "When? What happened to him? Do you know who bore It?"
"Bore what?"
"The Ring, you fool! The Ring! What of Boromir? Did he carry the Ring of Power?"
Sam's eyes went wide and he shook his head. He refused to speak. Faramir took him by the shoulders, shaking him as if to tip the words from his mouth.
"Tell me! What of my brother?" he roared.
Even though a faint light of confusion came to Sam's eyes, he would only say,
"I made an oath, Mr Faramir. I'm not breakin' it any more."
At last, the man dropped back onto his heels and put a hand to his brow.
"Fine," he spat, "You can just tell me where this all happened. Where are they now?"
"It was by the waterfalls," said Sam, seemingly unmoved by the change in Faramir's tone, "We got attacked by orcs and split up. Me and...me and my master came here because...we wanted to catch this little crawling sneak called Gollum. That's why me and my master came. Have you seen them?"
The man frowned, noting the sudden pleading in his prisoner's voice. He shook his head and saw Samwise's face crease into a thousand lines of concern.
"I'll send out a search party for them," Faramir complied, "Only if you promise me that you will tell me everything of Boromir. I will do nothing if you deny me knowledge of my brother."
Sam did not pause, but nodded eagerly, his hope rekindled.
"Thank you, Mr Faramir," he said breathlessly, "My master'll know. He knows everything."